"Go and have a good look at it," urged Stafford.
The boy did so. "It's 'er—done up for the opery," he declared.
"Well, Lulu Luckingham is all right, then. That lady will be good to her."
"Right. As soon as I seed her, I whispers to Lou 'You keep close to that there wall,' I sez. 'There's a chimbey in it, an' you'll never be cold,' I says to Lou."
Stafford laughed softly at the illustration. Many a time the lad snuggled up to a wall which had a warm chimney, and he had got his figure of speech from real life.
"Well, what's to become of you?" Stafford asked.
"Me—I'll be level wiv me rent to-day," he answered, turning over the two shillings and some coppers in his pocket; "an' Lou and me's got a fair start."
Stafford got up, came over, and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm going to give you a sovereign," he said—"twenty shillings, for your fair start; and I want you to come to me here next Sunday-week to breakfast, and tell me what you've done with it."
"Me—y'r gryce!" A look of fright almost came into the lad's face. "Twenty bob—me!"
The sovereign was already in his hand, and now his face suffused. He seemed anxious to get away, and looked round for his cap. He couldn't do here what he wanted to do. He felt that he must burst.